


The Test

by sadlittlepeachesandplums



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, but its not angst, honestly its not what it seems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:47:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlittlepeachesandplums/pseuds/sadlittlepeachesandplums
Summary: The last thing they expect is for Quentin to die immediately after acquiring the last key.Something happens when he touches it. Something Eliot and Margo can’t even begin to try to explain. Though it’s like he’s talking to someone who isn’t there. For a moment they think maybe it’s like the Truth Key and is showing him something hidden.But he glances over his shoulder at them, and the look on his face says something is wrong, so, so wrong.Eliot’s rushing towards him before he even has a chance to process the look, to even wonder how they got here. “Q!” He exclaims, “Drop the Key! Drop the fucking key!”





	1. Chapter 1

The last thing they expect is for Quentin to die immediately after acquiring the last key.

Something happens when he touches it. Something Eliot and Margo can’t even begin to try to explain. Though it’s like he’s talking to someone who isn’t there. For a moment they think maybe it’s like the Truth Key and is showing him something hidden.

But he glances over his shoulder at them, and the look on his face says something is wrong, so, so wrong.

Eliot’s rushing towards him before he even has a chance to process the look, to even wonder how they got here. “Q!” He exclaims, “Drop the Key! _Drop the fucking key_!”

But Quentin turns back to whoever he’s talking to and nods, holding his hand out.

Eliot reaches him just as Quentin’s knees buckle.

Margo’s gasp feels like an echo in the Grand Canyon they way it crashes around Eliot’s head as he grips onto limp limbs. “Q,” Eliot breathes, and it almost feels like Deja vu the way he’s rocking Quentin’s body, “Q, come on. Wake up.” He struggles to maneuver them around until Quentin’s lying on the ground and Eliot’s leaning over him. “Come on, Q!”

He barely notices the key slip out of Quentin’s hand onto the forest floor. Doesn’t even realize Margo’s picked it up until she’s hesitantly kneeling next to him and holding the key out to him. He doesn’t even glance up from patting at Quentin’s cheeks futilely until she clears her throat and says, “He wants to talk to you.”

He doesn’t recognize the slight awe in her voice as something jagged pierces his heart and his head jerks up to meet her gaze. “He’s not—“

She shakes her head vehemently, her eyebrows furrowing like she’s not sure what she’s looking at. “It’s not the Truth Key, El. He’s not dead.” She says, turning her gaze past him, her jaw clenching as her eyes dart back down to Quentin, “Not yet, at least.”

Eliot stares at her until she sighs and snatches his hand away from Quentin’s jaw and places the key on his palm. At first he doesn’t realize what’s changed, he’s too focused on the jittery feeling of Margo’s shaking hand in his, and the stillness of Quentin’s chest beneath their hands.

Until.

The Great Cock appears, leaning over Quentin’s body. “A true feat indeed, High King Eliot,” he murmurs, glancing up at him over his beak. “Truly, I am impressed.”

Eliot shakes his head, still so confused. “What’s happening? What did you do to him?”

“Not I,” And to his benefit, he does appear sincere when his gaze darts over Quentin’s body. “Rupert Chatwin was a wise young Magician, if I do say so myself. Clever, even more so than I, The Great Cock, could predict. And I am not one to be outsmarted.”

Something vile and angry grips at Eliot’s heart as he glares up at him. “Yeah? Yeah, that’s fucking great. Now, this is where you get to the part where you tell me how I save Quentin!” His voice rises as he grabs at the lapels of Quentin’s shirt with the hand not holding the key.

The great Cock doesn’t respond, something odd dancing in his eyes that Eliot can’t place. Until, “There is a choice you must make,” he says, and it’s then that Eliot truly understands the underlining meaning of his name and it’s not that the stupid jack ass is part Peacock. “Rupert felt if magic were to be removed, then it would be for good reason. Magic took his love. Took his life. And so, to return magic...” He pauses, tilting his head like he expects Eliot to get it.

“I’m not following whatever track you’re laying down, so drop the fucking riddles and just tell me what I have to do.”

He tilts his head with a soft blink of his eyes before sighing. “You people from Earth do like to ruin a good show.”

Margo wraps her hand in Eliot's and flares boldly up at the great cock, “Listen here you overgrown parrot—if you don’t just tell us what to do, I’ll pluck you feather by feather until you’re tomorrows birdy stew!” He almost doesn’t hear the tremor in her voice.

“This decision does not involve—“

“Like hell it doesn’t!” She and Eliot chorus.

She squeezes his hand, tight, like Eliot’s her life line. Or, better yet, her only way in on this conversation.

“Brothers of the heart. Two halves of a whole. Two sides—“

Margo raises her free hand. “You can’t be serious.”

Eliot makes a face, fingers clenching in coarse fabric. “What? What are you—“

“He thinks you and Quentin are soulmates. Right,” she looks at the great cock, and adds as a personal jibe, “bird brains?”

“I do not think, I only know. Rupert Chatwin appeared before Quentin Coldwater and he was given a choice. Renew magic—at a cost. Sacrifice himself, or he whom he loves most. His decision was swift.”

Eliot shakes his head, “Alice is his soulmate, and he wouldn’t kill himself to save her—“ Margo shakes her head, making a face of disagreement. “Okay, he would. But that—he wouldn’t make that decision alone. That’s not his decision to make.”

The great cock grins like Eliot’s said the first smart thing he’s heard all day and points at him, “Hence true sacrifice!” He excitedly stands up, “But he who owns his heart may reverse the decision. Save Quentin or save magic. This decision,” he offers a sarcastic bow, “Is yours, my king.”

“No—he loves Alice. What aren’t you getting? Q... Q doesn’t love me, not for lack of trying. I’m not his... I don’t own his heart.” He pauses, shaking his head before bursting to his feet and pointing an accusatory finger at the great cock. Margo’s pulled up with him and she offers an intimidating glare. “Either way! You told me I could go on this quest with my friends and we’d bring magic back. You didn’t say there’d be a cost!”

“All magic comes at a cost.” When Eliot doesn’t respond, he sighs and waves a hand. “And at the time I may have been unaware of the curse Rupert placed on the final key. He truly was a clever little magician.”

“Shut up about Rupert!”

“I counter you; make a decision!” The great cock nods down to Quentin’s body, “Time runs on, High King. It ticks and it tocks and soon you’ll be all out.”

Eliot's Adam’s apple bobs as his gaze falls back down to Quentin’s body at his feet. He’s not even his soul mate, or whatever it is The Great Cock and/or Rupert Chatwin thinks he is. His love for Quentin sometimes hurts, like an addiction he’s trying to break but just can’t get away from...but it’s been clear from the beginning that it’s one sided. That the only person Quentin cares for beyond friendly compassion is Alice. It’s always Alice. Alice, Alice, Alice.

God he’s so sick of not being Alice.

Margo’s hand squeezes tight around his, as she asks, “Why are you doing this?” She asks, a waver to her voice, that he’s sure she’s thankful nobody else is in the clearing to hear.

“Not I. Rupert.”

“Alright, eagle eye!” She huffs, “Why is Rupert doing all this?”

“One must be willing to sacrifice to bring forth the renewal of magic. Sacrifice magic to have the one you love, or sacrifice the one you love to have magic. A choice he was never given the opportunity to make.”

“What gives him the right—“

“Bambi,” Eliot murmurs, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, he’s got it wrong.” He takes a step back, away from Quentin and the great cock, arm extended only for Margo’s vice-like grip on his hand. “He wants Alice. He wants the person Quentin actually loves and she’s back on Earth.” And for once, Eliot’s at a complete loss.

Because this time, he’s not sure he can save Quentin. He’s not sure he can be the hero any of them need. He knows if this were his decision he wouldn’t choose what the rest of them want.

And he knows more than he’s ever known a single god damned thing that Alice . . . Alice would sacrifice Quentin for that power in a heartbeat.

He’s going to have to watch Quentin die.

No matter what he does, this is it. And somehow knowing magic will come back as soon as Quentin breathes his last breath makes it worse.

“Magic is pain,” Margo says, after a long silence. “Magic is pain, El.” She pulls at his hand, “Eliot. Your... whatever this is with Q, it’s filled to the fucking brim with pain—“

“—And Love—“

She shoots a glare at the great cock, surprisingly silencing him. “Make a choice. Magic or Quentin Coldwater?”

A broken sob works it’s way out if Eliot's throat, as he shakes his head, “I don’t have the power to make this decision—“

“Then just answer the question! What would you choose?”

He wraps one of his arms around his waist as he feels more fragile than he’s felt since the moment he learned about his telekinesis. And he stares down at Quentin, watches the stillness in the air around his body.

“ _Quentin_ ,” he chokes out, “Quentin, every fucking day. Quentin.”

The Great Cock let’s out a delighted squeal, and waves a hand until Quentin’s inhaling, coughing violently on the forest floor. “A most surprising choice,” he says as Eliot falls to his knees. “I had expected a different outcome. You were so desperate for magic in the beginning. Quentin over the sanctity and safety of your people.”

Eliot's heart feels like it’s stopped in his chest. Oh god, he thinks, he failed whatever stupid test this is because he chose his own stupid selfish wish over the people he’s sworn to protect. But, so slow, and somehow like Eliot’s life is on fast forward— Quentin opens his eyes and looks up at him. He can barely breathe, like Quentin’s stolen all the air from his lungs and all the grief rocks brought his abdomen violently; shocked and angry. Fierce and confused.

What just happened?

Quentin’s jaw trembles as he reaches up with a weak hand and cups Eliot’s jaw, “They—“ He looks out on the clearing as another man materializes in front of the trio, “You’re—You’re letting me say goodbye?” He asks, soft, voice cracking on every other word as his thumb ghosts along Eliot’s cheekbone. He doesn’t let either man respond, before he turns his gaze back on Eliot, eyes frantic, “I—I know you’re going to be angry,” He whispers, pushing himself up with his free hand, “but it was the only choice, Eliot. I—I’m not sorry, okay? I—“

“Relax,” Margo mutters, leaning against a tree, “You’re not dying, Q.”

Quentin falters, frowning as he turns his attention on her, “W—What? But—“

“It was all a test,” She pauses, turning a perked eyebrow on The Great Cock and Rupert Chatwin, “Wasn’t it?” Neither of them respond so she rolls her eyes and looks back at Quentin and Eliot—both frozen in their confusion. “Eliot’s death. It was all part of their stupid, twisted game. I— when he came back, I was confused, I’ll bite that bullet and admit it. But while the great dickhead over there,” She motions to him with a shrug of her shoulder, “Monologued his way through his portion of whatever the fuck this test is, I think I figured it out.” She rolls her neck and turns her attention on Rupert. “You _did_ curse the key.”

Rupert nods, eyes alight with surprise, “I did.”

Eliot looks down at Quentin, relieved to see him just as confused. “I—Uh. So great that everyone else gets whats going on. Really. But I have one question,” He says, raising a hand, “What do we mean by ‘when Eliot died’?”

Margo smiles at him, “Babes. Do you remember how you even got here?”

Of course he does. “I—“ Wait. What the _fuck_? All he remembers is . . . A fight with the fairies in the castle. Margo was in trouble with the fairy queen… he wanted to protect her, and he and Quentin stormed in. But they didn’t get far, because the fairies saw them coming. Traitors . . . A searing pain in his back . . .

Oh, jesus christ. He’d been murdered.

God _damn_ it.

“That’s because you were dead. Only you weren’t—“

“No,” Rupert interrupts, “That was real. It was all real.”

Margo narrows her eyes, jerking her attention back to the ghost of Fillory’s finest king—a term Eliot will wipe from all of Fillory if he doesn’t get some fucking answers— and asks, “So you set out all along to kill Eliot? Why? Because he challenged you for greatest king Fillory’s ever known?”

Rupert shakes his head, “No, of course not. The keys chose the order. When it became clear that Quentin would be the one to find the final key, the keys knew what to do. Who died was entirely dependent on who Quentin loves.” He smiles, soft and a little too kindly for Eliot’s taste, considering the topic at hand. Which is to say, his _apparent death_.

Eliot glances down at Quentin, unsure of what to say, but he’s staring down at the space on the ground between them, his jaw trembling. “I killed—“

Eliot thinks, no, none of that, and sweeps forward to wraps his arms around Quentin’s shaking body as he can. He hooks his chin over Quentin’s shoulder, and glares up at Great Cock and Rupert Chatwin. “Shouldn’t you have killed Alice? _You psychopaths don’t even know how to psychopath_.”

Rupert shakes his head, “Quentin was given a choice,” Quentin says something, muffled, into Eliot’s chest, but Eliot only holds him closer, and narrows his eyes to usher Rupert on. “He was aware long before now who his heart belonged to. Just as I did when I was given the same choice,” He shrugs a shoulder, “Though I will admit my decision was not as selfless as the one the two of you made today.”

Margo sighs, dramatic and wonderful, “He’s saying you don’t just get magic because you went on a quest and gathered some stupid keys. You have to be willing to sacrifice everything for Magic. He wasn’t willing.”

Quentin finally manages to pull himself away, and Eliot can’t help but to marvel at him. The colors returned to his skin, and he already seems like he hadn’t been halfway to deaths doorstep only moments ago. “That—that’s why you died?” He asks, shuffling to his knees and putting his full attention on Rupert. “I’d always—it’s been this mystery. You chose magic. Over—“

“Love,” Rupert, offers, “I did. And I died. Magic lived on, and I became . . . Whatever it is I am.” He shrugs, “I don’t really care to discover what I am. Magic, a ghost, an astral projection like your friend. I am just here. Always. I don’t get to go to the underworld.”

“You don’t get to see the person you loved,” Quentin murmurs. “Because in life he wasn’t enough—so—so. In death, how could he be?”

Rupert nods. “Whatever the answer to the test, magic will be returned,” He shrugs again, “But there’s always a cost. I placed the curse on the final key so I could keep track of it’s progress. Magic is a fickle beast. Often she sends those who seek her down the wrong path. I had to ensure you ended up here.”

“But—why?” Eliot doesn’t even realize he’s the one asking until they all turn to look at him.

Quentin’s breath hitches until he’s crawling back toward him, like he’s forgotten Eliot’s even here, and then pulling him into a hug so tight Eliot’s the one forgetting—how to breathe.

“I enjoy a good story, much like Quentin.”

Quentin unravels himself and looks up at Margo. “I’m sorry,” He starts, but she waves him off.

“Don’t even,” She murmurs, offering as much of a smile as she can, before turning her glare back on to look at Rupert and The Great Cock. “This is all swell and dandy. But when the fuck are you going to turn magic back on in this joint? Mama needs to kill her some fairy bitches, and these two need to have some funky ‘oh fuck we secretly, but how much of a secret was it really, love each other’ sex.” She waves a hand at them, “Do whatever it is you do and get this dance hall drug rolling.”

The Great Cock bows, gesturing widely with one arm, “So the queen asks, and so the queen shall receive.”

“And don’t think we won’t have more questions when we’re done kicking fairy ass,” She adds, pointing a perfectly manicured finger.

Something warm and buzzing suddenly rushes through Eliot’s body as the cock stands back up and shines an acquiescing grin on her. Something so familiar and oddly as grotesque as it is beautiful—

“Oh thank fucking god,” He groans, pulling an arm away from Quentin to craft a one handed spell into the air. Leaves from the trees above start to flutter down and dance around them in intricate shapes. Quentin relaxes against him, head resting on Eliot’s chest as both their hearts thump wildly.

 

 

Three hours later they’re reunited with all their friends. The fairy queen’s head is sitting at the center of the royal dinner table, right next to Margo’s plate, where she—disgustingly—has her heart gently placed. She urges Tick forward, and holds the plate up to him, blood dripping to the floor, and smiles a sickly saccharine grin, “Tick, be a dear and have Josh cook this up for me. Make it delicious.”

“Jesus,” Penny groans, leaning his forward on Kady’s shoulder, “Are you fucking serious?”

“I made a vow,” Margo says, simply, as Tick hurries away with the plate outstretched in front of him. “And a good queen keeps her vows.”

“A good queen doesn’t resort to cannablism,” Alice bites, making a face as Tick disappears out of the room.

“I did have a rather disturbing meet and greet with cannibals I’d rather not repeat,” Eliot murmurs. Though his attention is only partly in the conversation. Quentin’s sat across from him, staring at him openly and unabashed. Like some kind of dams been opened that he couldn’t even close if he wanted to.

And if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, Eliot’s not sure he wants to, anyways.

Quentin smiles before turning his attention back on his food.

“Oh for gods sake,” Kady mutters, slamming her silverware on the table, “If these two don’t just fuck already, I’m going to lose my god damned mind.”

Julia clicks her tongue, “Come on. It’s cute. _They’re_ cute.” She smiles, reaches over to squeeze Quentin’s hand, “Their love saved magic.”

“Gag me with a fork—“

“Penny,” Margo warns, “Don’t ask for things I have the royal power to grant.”

Fen and Frey look at each other from their place at the table. “Is this what family dinner will always consist of, mother?” Frey asks.

Somehow, that silences everyone at the table.

 _Family_.

Nobody moves but for the slight upward tilts on the corner of their lips before they all roll their eyes. Margo leans in towards Frey, “Honey,” She says, “You ain’t ever seen a family like ours.” She winks at Frey before looking up at Eliot and Quentin, “And as sweet and beautiful as you two adjusting to your openness about your feelings is, I’m going to have to agree with the OG hedge bitch—“

“—I’d be offended but, oddly, I’m not—“

“And would like to cordially exempt you from tonights festivities, so you may head to the royal quarters and bone the lovesick looks right out of your sweet little faces.”

Frey leans into Fen, “But—aren’t _you_ married to father?”

Fen sighs, smiling at her daughter, “I am. But your father is permitted a husband as well as a wife. King Idri is going to marry Queen Margo and everyone’s going to live happily ever after.”

Margo scoffs as Quentin and Eliot hesitantly stand up from the table and immediately reach for each others hands. She leans in for them all to hear, “Bitches we’re in Fillory. Aint no such thing as a happy ever after,” She shrugs, “But we just killed all the big bads, my best friends aren’t dead, I single handedly figured out a curse, got my two main boys to admit they’re in love with each other, and am about to feast on some fairy heart—Happy ever after aint coming, but I’mma pretend we’ve got it for a little bit.”

Penny nods in agreement, “Until the next evil bastards come after us.”

“Here, here,” Julia laughs, holding her glass up.

“Fuck the future let’s party until the next evil undoes all the hard work and misery we just put into this shit!” Kady exclaims.

It’s morbid, but god, is it so fucking them.


	2. No Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote it but it didn't really have a place in the fic, so here it is as a kind of prequel part two.

“Quentin,” Rupert says, sad smile on his lips, “You made it. I had wondered if you would.”

Quentin nods shakily. “I’m here.”

“At a great cost, I’m sure.” Quentin’s jaw clenches, but Rupert moves on with a nod. “You’ve found the final key. But you’ve suffered a great amount in order to do so. So, I will give you a choice. A gift I was never even given the opportunity to accept. Something greater than—“

“My friends are being killed by fairies, and I—I don’t even know how many people I’m expecting to go home to. Please, just. Just get to the point. I need to get this over with.”

“Your sorrow is not without power,” Rupert murmurs, placing a gentle hand on Quentin’s shoulder. “So the point, as you put it, is you have a choice. You can bring back the man you love, or you can br—,”

Quentin tunes out the rest as his mind and heart zero in on the only thing that matters. “Eliot,” He says without hesitation, glancing back at Margo, feeling her pain from across the field. Feeling her anger, and how it swirls within his own. “Bring back Eliot.”

“You’re not interested in your other option?”

“if it’s magic, no.” He turns back to Rupert and nods to himself. “I can live without magic and spells. I can live without Brakebills, and with everyone hating me. I can live with that. I can’t—I can’t live without him. Not again, not anymore. Bring back Eliot. Please.”

Rupert watches him before taking a deep breath and nodding. “Very well. Do you care about the cost?”

All magic comes at a cost.

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

A sad nod, “Indeed. Is that a cost you’re willing to bear? Your life for his?”

“I die either way, don’t I?”

Rupert chuckles, nodding as he looks down at his hands clasped in front of him. “You are smarter than you appear, that I can’t deny. Death taketh,” He looks back up, “And death giveth. Which means, you will not be alive to bear witness to the consequences to your decision. You could bring magic back and meet Eliot in the underworld—“

“Eliot is an amazing king,” Quentin interrupts, shaking his head, “The best since, well, _you_. His people need him. His queen—Margo . . . Fenn and Frey, our friends. They need him. Eliot’s so much more than he was when he took the crown. He’s a good man, and he doesn’t deserve to spend eternity in purgatory. I could bring magic back, sure. But to what? A world without Eliot Waugh to reign over it? What’s the point?”

“Your friends will not appreciate —“

“I don’t care. Bring Eliot back.”

“Is that your final say?”

“I choose Eliot.”

Rupert smiles at him as he raises a hand, “No,” He says, waving it over Quentin’s head, “You choose love.” As Quentin’s eyes close, and the soft agreement falls, unused on his tongue, and a heavy darkness washes over him, he hears, “Let us only hope that you aren’t the only one.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not... entirely happy with how this turned out. It felt like a good idea in my head, but i'm not happy with the execution of it. But here you go.


End file.
